


Necessary Evils

by orphan_account



Category: Olympics RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Michael and Ryan aren't famous, but are instead regular everyday types, Ryan's occupation gives Michael cause for concern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Evils

* * *

Michael’s voice is a barely there whisper when he finally asks the question that’s been hanging over their relationship like a storm cloud. Ryan came home covered in someone else’s blood yet again and Michael can’t just shut up about it anymore. “Why?” he asks Ryan. “Why do you do it? Is it because you like it?”

“It’s not that I like it; not really.” Ryan shrugs nonchalantly, as if they’re discussing the weather. “It’s just what I’m good at.”

“It’s just what you’re good at?” Michael deadpans. “That’s your explanation? Are you kidding me?”

“You may not like it but it’s the only one I’ve got,” Ryan sighs frustratedly. “I do it because I’m good at it and it has to be done. What else do you want me to say?”

“Say that you’re temporarily insane or overly traumatized by an event in your childhood,” Michael begs. “Say you took some kind of drug and couldn’t control yourself. Say anything, Ry. Anything but this!”

“Try to understand, Michael, please.” Ryan implores. “We all come into the world with a purpose, a function; something that makes us who we are. Me? Well, I was born to kill people. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.”

“You can’t honestly believe that Ry,” Michael’s voice cracks a little as he speaks and tears run down his face. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

“We can’t all be heroes, Michael,” Ryan says somberly. “In this life, some of us have to be villains.”

They never speak of it again.

\--

Ryan never tells Michael exactly where he got his start or how he developed into such an adept killer, but Michael soon comes to understand what Ryan meant when he said it was something he was good at. He also comes to understand what Ryan meant when he said it was something that had to be done.

Michael starts keeping track of the obituaries in the paper; starts to see the pattern. A corrupt judge here. A thief there. Some street thugs peddling smack to junior high schoolers. A creepy old guy who is just a bit too fond of the little boys who play in the empty lot across the street from his house. The town drunk who decides to go home from the bar plastered and knock his wife and kids around for the hundredth time. It all starts to make sense.

It almost seems noble. Justified, even. But Michael knows better. No matter who it is, it’s still murder. It’s still taking power over life and death into your own hands. It’s still playing God. And if there is one thing Michael knows beyond a shadow of a doubt it’s this: playing God never got anyone anywhere they wanted to be.

\--

Ryan will get a call in the middle of the night- he gets calls at all times of the day but the ones that come at night seem more urgent- and be up and out the door in less than fifteen minutes. Michael tells him not to go, but he never listens.

“If it’s not me they’ll just send someone else,” Ryan says as he gets dressed, as if that’s a good enough excuse.

“Then let them send someone else,” Michael argues as he sits up in bed, sheets pooling around his hips. “Let somebody else do it and come back to bed.”

“I can’t, Michael,” Ryan replies. “You know that.”

Then Ryan leaves.

He doesn’t say goodbye. Instead he says goodnight.

After all, goodnights are for the living and goodbyes are for the dead.


End file.
